


Art is a Blast

by JustAnotherBlonde



Series: A Lifetime of Moments [9]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Art School, Art, Art is an explosion, Deidara comforts him, Explosions, Explosives, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, I had to tag it "art"! Dei's doing art!, Kissing, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post sex panic attack, Sasori has issues but he's dealing with them, Sex, Sexual Aversion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:02:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26452297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnotherBlonde/pseuds/JustAnotherBlonde
Summary: A day for Dei. Art is made. A fight is had. It's complicated.
Relationships: Deidara/Sasori (Naruto)
Series: A Lifetime of Moments [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1878778
Comments: 15
Kudos: 24





	1. Idea

**Author's Note:**

> this started out as an interlude drabble but turns out there’s a whole story here, haha. i mean, once i started researching for Dei's art, it was all over. so many great ideas.  
> tbh, research for this probably got me on some watch lists…  
> i'm using centigrade/Celsius. 40 degrees C is like HOT weather. (104F) i guess i imagine in this future/fictional quasi-british place, climate change has been a bitch...  
> it's split into three chapters, and the nsfw tags are for Chap 3 only

The idea came to him in the middle of the night, and knowing it had to be finished _immediately,_ before the peak heat of summer passed, meant sleep would no longer be necessary.

Deidara gently shook Sasori awake.

“Mm? Dei? What is it? Did you hear something?”

First taking a moment to revel in how perfect Sasori looked with his half-closed eyes and sleep-softened brow, then searching the covers for the t-shirt he’d discarded last night, Deidara replied, “No, no, I’m going to my warehouse. I had an idea… mn.”

He moved to the edge of the bed, found a pair of shorts he’d left on the floor and pulled them on.

“What time is it now?” Sasori mumbled, unmoving.

Deidara checked his phone.

“4:12, mn.”

“Have fun,” Sasori replied, rolling over.

Flipping his hair out from his shirt collar, Deidara crawled back onto the bed and kissed Sasori’s exposed forehead.

“Bring me some breakfast, okay? Mn,” he said, eye bright in the dim pre-dawn room.

Sasori’s response was incoherent.

*

It was warm and slightly humid on the street. Deidara breathed it in, then checked the weather forecast on his phone.

“High 30s, into the 40s tomorrow, holding steady all week, good,” he said to himself. “I won’t have much time to test this, but the kiln should serve to simulate… Now… where can I steal compost at this hour?”

*

Less than an hour later, Deidara unlocked the door of his warehouse, covered in dirt up to his elbows. At some point after he started digging he’d tied back his hair, which meant streaks of brown soil and the odd twig decorated his high bun. Dragging a large sack of foul-smelling compost through the door, he scanned the room until he found what he was looking for. He’d been experimenting with linseed oil rags as igniters for weeks: jugs of oil and a pile of unsoaked rags lined one of his scavenged shelves. He knew he could get ignition from the heat generated by evaporating oil with the balled-up rags stuffed inside a ventilated clay shell, but adding the _compost_ was a stroke of genius. The added heat trapped inside the shell would _guarantee_ ignition, and a handful of dirt was a perfect mixer for gunpowder.

“Right,” he said aloud. “Next step: how many shells can I finish before tonight, mn?”

*

Sasori knocked some time after 9am. Deidara was standing at the kiln, sweating, watching his sculptures bake with a glowing expression not unlike that of a proud father while he rested and massaged his hands.

As Sasori scanned the workshop, his eyes grew wide.

“You’ve been… busy,” he said slowly, setting a large insulated bag on the cluttered worktable. The surface was covered with over a _dozen_ —yes, there were sixteen—bird statues, each one slightly larger than would easily fit in the palm of one’s hand. And these were only the unbaked ones. Finished pieces perched on shelves, empty crates… All told there were nearly thirty, and from the large block of clay on the floor, Deidara still planned on making more.

There was a finished statue on a stool near the door. Sasori picked it up to inspect Deidara’s work. It was glazed white with bold black accents and staring black-hole eyes—no, the eyes were actually holes. Turning it over, he found another, larger hole beneath its outstretched wing. Something inside shifted like sand. Was it warm to the touch or was that just his imagination?

Most of the birds were formed like this one, wings extended as if startled into flight, although others sat calmly, wings folded. They were exquisitely crafted. Sasori marveled at Deidara’s ability to create such fine work in such quantity over such as short period of time.

Deidara suddenly noticed what Sasori was doing.

“Woah, woah, woah, careful!” he exclaimed. “That one’s already loaded. I was going to test it in the kiln before I start mixing the rest of the filling, mn.”

“What… what’s it supposed to do?” Sasori said, gingerly returning the bird to its pedestal. He realized now that the test figure was purposefully set away from the others, although its position so near the door made it feel suspiciously like a booby trap.

Deidara’s eye gleamed wickedly. Snatching a finished statue off the floor, he began to explain.

“Okay. So this is a _massive_ outdoor installation. These go all over the city—I already asked Z, Black and Tobi to help me place them tonight, if the test run goes well today, mn.”

Sasori eyed him like he was crazy. His gaze slowly moved from Deidara to the statues, once again marveling at how beautiful they were, even with their odd, staring eyes.

“I love the design… Certainly an improvement on your average city pigeon… but why do I get the feeling that their lives will be fleeting?”

Deidara’s mouth dropped open in a little ‘o’.

“Fleeting! Omg that word is perfect!!” Deidara leapt across the room and pecked Sasori on the cheek. “You fucking poet. I love it, mn. A fleet of birds, fleeting lives…”

“It’s a flock of birds, a fleet of ships…” Sasori pursed his lips.

“I know that, mn!” Deidara said, waving his hand impatiently. “I don’t care. The piece is called ‘The Summer Fleet’ and that’s all. Hastag #fleeting. Done, mn.”

Sasori moved towards the worktable looking for a seat. There were none: every available surface was covered in birds. Sweat dripped down Sasori’s back, trickling along his spine and soaking into his t-shirt. The kiln made the warehouse stiflingly hot.

“So how will you be destroying these lovely creatures?” Sasori asked.

Deidara flipped over the bird in his hand and pointed to the large hole beneath its wing.

“I’m stuffing them with compost, gunpowder and a balled up rag soaked in linseed oil,” he said, wiping sweat from his brow with a grubby hand. “That, combined with this week’s 40-degree weather should give us spontaneous combustion! My darlings will live brief, beautiful lives, adored by all who lay on eyes them for a fleeting moment before ascending in a glorious explosion, mn!”

While Sasori could appreciate Deidara’s passion, the gleam in Deidara’s eyes bordered on fanatic, and the more Sasori looked at the beautiful sculptures, the less he understood why Deidara wanted to demolish them.

“What did you bring for breakfast, mn?” Deidara asked, unzipping the insulated bag and disrupting Sasori’s train of thought.

Sasori moved to unpack hot pumpkin rice porridge, homemade pickles and hard-boiled eggs, laying them out on a corner of the table Deidara hastily cleared. One of the unbaked sculptures fell to the floor with a dull smack, flattening the bird’s beak into its head.

“Oops, haha,” Deidara giggled. “I’ll fix him up after breakfast. I’m going to work until I run out of clay, mn.”

Lips pursed so tightly they were a thin line, Sasori pulled a thermos of coffee out of the bag and poured two cups.

“You’re filthy. Go wash your hands at least before we eat,” he said in a soft yet somehow sinister voice.

“It’s fine! Gonna eat a pound of dirt before you die, mn.”

Sasori glared. “Wash your goddamn hands or I’m taking all of it back. You can go scrounge something from the dumpsters you love so much!”

“Gee, sorry _Mom_ , mn,” Deidara retorted, rolling his eye. If it had been anyone else, he would have goaded them further, but Deidara knew that Sasori really would take all the food back and leave him to starve. He’d suffered Sasori’s wrath throughout the first semester, like the first time he turned up late to one of Sasori’s sculpture tutorials. Sasori had refused to give him any materials to work with and forced him to sit on his hands for an hour. _I guess I shouldn’t have expected him to lose the temper just because we’re dating… mn,_ Deidara thought with a pout.

The only tap was outside the warehouse, a public faucet on the side of the building used (presumably) by sanitation workers to scrub the canal-side pavement and the floor around the dumpsters. Deidara had never seen anyone use it. He briskly sloughed the dirt and clay from his hands, spending a moment to pick what he could out from under his fingernails. He would have to redo his nail-polish later…

At the door to his workshop, he twisted the handle with dripping wet hands, pushed the door open and then—

— _BAM!_

The bird by the door exploded, flinging shards of clay in every direction; one caught Deidara on the arm and another on the cheek before tinkling to the ground.

“Haha!” he clapped his hands and exclaimed gleefully. “It worked! I don’t need to test any more. We’ll pack them tonight when it’s dark and cool, and set them out after midnight. Should get results by mid-morning, mn!”

He looked to Sasori, not expecting to see such a furious expression on his face. A bowl of porridge and the coffee thermos were splattered across the floor and work table, the former because Sasori had dropped it in shock, the latter because it had been knocked over by a shard of clay.

Sasori threw the spoon in his hand down to the floor with a clatter and stormed over to Deidara. With his face so close their noses were nearly touching, he fumed:

“You. Are. Going. To. Hurt. Someone. With this _pointless_ installation!” He stepped back and waved an arm at all of the statues, then brought his hand back to Deidara’s face, reaching for the cut but pulling back at the last minute. “I’m having no part of this! I’ll see you at home tonight for dinner if you want it, but I’m out. Bye.”

He roughly pushed past Deidara and disappeared before Deidara could even begin to process what had just happened.

“What a big baby, mn,” he muttered.

After a moment Deidara became aware of his stinging arm and the blood trickling down his cheek. He wiped it, looked at his hand—more blood than he was expecting, actually—then rubbed it into his trousers with a shrug. His phone alarm went off, meaning the statues in the kiln were done. He strode to the worktable, knocked back one of the remaining cups of coffee, and then went back to work.


	2. Execution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i use the term "balaclava"/"buff" but these might both be British terms? anyway, it's that tube of cloth that climbers/skiiers/cavers wear to keep their necks warm or hold hair off their face. different from a neckwarmer cuz it's made from stretchy cloth, not fleece. if you know the American term, leave a comment! otherwise i hope you know what i'm talking about after this note <3  
> 

“All right, assholes. You have your orders. Let’s do this, mn.”

Deidara regarded his motley team of “assistants” with grave dissatisfaction: Z had forgotten he was supposed to wear black to blend in with the night, Black was still slightly tipsy from the birthday barbecue he’d attended that afternoon, and Tobi was… well Tobi was just being Tobi, grinning like an idiot and bouncing on his heels. Deidara hoped one of the birds would explode on him.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Black drawled, swaying a little. “You said they’ve already got the oil thingies in them? And we need to be careful if they feel hot, right?”

“That’s right, mn,” Deidara nodded curtly.

“Is that how you got the…” Tobi trailed off, pointing to his own cheek as an attempt to finish the sentence.

“Yeah, Tobi, my prototype exploded this morning on its own. It was roasting in here, must have been over 40 degrees—I’d been running the kiln for hours. But that doesn’t really exclude the possibility that the compost/linseed oil combo igniting on its own, regardless of external temperature…”

The three of them just stared.

“… so be careful if the bird is hot, alright? These things are full of gunpowder, mn.”

Z and Black exchanged a look.

“You’re insane.” Z’s voice rumbled. “But this is pretty cool.”

“Remember what I said about _trying_ to put them up high where kids can’t reach them, and _nowhere_ near schools, mn,” Deidara continued. “University is fine, financial district is fine, go wild placing them along the canal and anywhere on bar streets… Am I forgetting anything?”

“Hoods,” Tobi spoke up. Everyone looked at him. “What? We have to keep our faces shadowed in case there’s CCTV.”

“I don’t have a hood,” said Z.

“That’s why I told you to bring a buff or a balaclava or something, you dumbshit!” Deidara shouted, throwing up his hands. “I swear to god you’re all completely—”

“I brought extra,” Tobi said, his outstretched hand clenching three stretchy balaclavas, like the ones he often used to hold his hair out of the way or keep warm on climbing trips.

Deidara looked Tobi up and down, thought for a moment, then jabbed a finger at him. “ _This_ gains you exactly… six brownie points. You now rank higher than Z and Black in my good books, but if you call me ‘senpai’ even once tonight you’re back to nothing. Let’s go, mn.”

Z pulled the borrowed navy blue balaclava dusted with white stars over his nose and shouldered an enormous duffel bag—the same one that Deidara had used to move his things to Sasori’s months ago. Oddly, the start-dusted balaclava was a fine complement to the white track suit he was wearing.

Black’s balaclava was printed with cartoon monkeys; he flipped his hood over his head in an effort to hide them. The twenty-odd bird statues he was to carry were packed into a cardboard box.

Tobi surprised everyone—again—when he pulled a full-sized sculpted mask out of his bag. It was mostly white, with black concentric circles painted on. Deidara stepped forward and tapped it a couple times.

“What…are you… mn, you know what, I don’t want to know. I saw you making that thing in Kakuzu’s class last semester, and if you’re using it to create some whole… I dunno, vigilante persona, I do not care, mn.”

Tobi slid his arms through the straps of his hiking rucksack full of statues and turned to Deidara.

“Fine. My lips are sealed,” he replied. It sounded like he was grinning under the mask.

“Whatever, mn.”

As much as it pained him to do so, Deidara wrapped his long fringe around his bun—the same dirty bun he had made that morning—and jammed a battered black beanie onto his head, tugging it down until it covered his blind eye. The black balaclava around his neck went over his nose, leaving only his gleaming blue eye exposed. In his wildest dreams he was famous and celebrated for installations like this. But currently, he would more likely end up getting booked for vandalism if he showed his face. He had twenty-four statues in his hiking rucksack and knew exactly where they belonged.

“Let’s go, mn!”

*

It was done. The statues were spread all over the city and Deidara was climbing the stairs to Sasori’s apartment. He had made his assistants send photos and GPS pins of their placements so he could check the statues were where he wanted them. Some of his favourite installations included the row Z had placed along the lower ledge of a billboard attached to one of the older office buildings downtown, an ad for an insipid local radio talk-show that had been running for decades. The birds stood out nicely against the blue background. And although Deidara hated to admit it, Tobi had outdone himself climbing the tallest dorm building and placing statues on what he claimed were the balconies of only the unoccupied rooms. The statues were visible from the ground and from the adjacent balconies, likely to draw attention.

Deidara was proudest of all of his own installation. In the center of town stood a massive memorial that he had always hated. The one-and-a-half-story-tall blocks of stone were carved into a bas-relief depicting soldiers on the brink of victory in the utilitarian style popular back when it was commissioned. Now, twelve of his beautiful babies were nestled into the crooks of the soldiers’ arms, on the ends of their guns, and on the tops of their heavy-looking boots. He hoped when they exploded they’d at least take off a nose or a finger or a toe or two.

The remaining twelve statues he hid around the city in places he figured would get the right amount of exposure—to both sunlight and an audience. With the memory of Sasori’s livid expression and the cut on his cheek as a reminder, he did try to avoid placing them anywhere too accessible, but there wasn’t much he could do if some idiot decided to go pick one up. Beauty was an explosion, and life was full of pain. If not for these installations, how else could he teach the people of this city these truths?

He slipped his key into the lock as softly as he could, hoping Sasori had already gone to bed. It was well after 2am.

The first thing he saw as he pushed to door open was Sasori rising from the sofa. The silky housecoat he wore swept out behind him as he rushed to greet Deidara. He was not smiling, but he looked more concerned than angry. Wordlessly, Sasori pulled the rucksack off Deidara’s back and divested him of his beanie, grimacing at the disgusting state of Deidara’s hair.

He combed through Deidara’s fringe in a way that allowed him to lightly stroke Deidara’s cheek with soft, cool fingers, which then slipped beneath the balaclava and tugged it down, exposing Deidara’s mouth. He brushed his thumb across Deidara’s lips, then leaned in for a kiss.

It was a gentle, lingering kiss which told Deidara more than words. Sasori had been worried about him. Deidara returned it: _I’m fine, I’m fine, darling, mn._

Sasori broke away with a tiny yet radiant smile playing at the corners of his mouth and looked into Deidara’s eye, his hand still cupping Deidara’s cheek.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

Deidara nodded and pulled Sasori into one more deep, lingering kiss.

“There’s cottage pie in the oven,” Sasori said when they broke apart again, gently pushing Deidara towards the kitchen. “Then you shower or you sleep on the floor, your choice.”

Deidara laughed. “Shower it is then, mn.”

Sasori grabbed his book to read at the counter while Deidara ate.

After most of the food had disappeared, Deidara looked up at Sasori.

“Do you want to talk about it at all?” he asked.

Sasori shook his head.

“Not now.”


	3. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: this chapter contains what some readers may consider a highly distressing sexual situation. Sasori is dealing with his sexual aversion and makes a decision that causes him distress. i recognize that what i wrote may be uncomfortable to read. what i am trying to explore here is the difficulty of overcoming sexual aversion (which for the sake of a full disclaimer i must state i do not have direct experience with) so PLEASE contact me if you think there are any issues with how it has been done. Thank you for reading (or choosing not to read). 🌹

Deidara woke at 7am, pulled from a deep, comfortable sleep by his subconscious. _Any news yet?!_ He had to stop himself from leaping out of bed and immediately leaving for the monument— _That would be too obvious. I’d give myself away… Time to be patient, mn. Ooh, or time to…_

He first rolled over so he could look at Sasori’s sleeping face. His lips were parted, his brow relaxed. _He looks so young…_

Inching closer until their bodies were touching, Deidara planted a soft kiss in the crook of Sasori’s neck, then another one a little higher up, tracing upward and managing to plant one more on Sasori’s jaw before he stirred. _Like waking Sleeping Beauty, mn_ , Deidara thought with a smile.

“What are you smiling about?” Sasori mumbled, brow furrowing. “Did one of your things blow up already?” He rolled over.

Deidara spooned him, squeezing tight and landing a kiss on his cheek.

“Mrmph…” Sasori strained to be free, but Deidara had pinned his arms down, laughing.

“You can’t escape me, mn!”

“Get off…”

After a short struggle, Sasori managed to get an arm free, which he used to push Deidara back. Just as Deidara moved forward, Sasori raised his elbow, which slammed into Deidara’s cheek bone and scraped off the scab that had formed there.

“Ow…”

Sasori’s expression instantly morphed into one of exasperated remorse. “Dammit, I’m sorry, Dei… Shit… Don’t—you’ll get blood on my sheets, stay there…”

He crossed from the bed to the bathroom in four strides. “Bandaging him up _again_ … Is this just what it’s going to be like?” he muttered to himself as he snatched his first aid kit.

When he exited the bathroom Deidara was checking his phone.

“Are you trending yet?” Sasori asked, voice dripping with mockery.

Deidara looked up, a little bead of blood gathering on his cheek.

“I get it, you disapprove, mn,” he replied, eyes closed in what he imagined was a beatific expression. “But this installation is the _perfect_ expression of transient beauty. Would it kill you to show a little more support, mn?”

Sasori stared down at him. “It might.”

Yet he knelt down on the bed, cracked open the first aid kit and took out a bottle of peroxide. He swabbed Deidara’s cheek without warning; Deidara hissed in pain and flinched.

“Hold still,” Sasori admonished, unwrapping a plaster.

“Dammit I don’t need a plaster, mn!” Deidara twisted away.

“Alright fine!” Sasori exclaimed, flinging the plaster back into the box.

They stared at each other in the dim morning light, both breathing hard through their nostrils, fuming. Deidara’s gaze sank into Sasori’s light brown eyes; he was falling into them, leaning forward... Sasori’s eyes flicked to Deidara’s mouth, its angry frown fading fast…

And in the next instant, like two magnets snapping together, Sasori’s lips crushed onto Deidara’s, meeting with such force that their teeth clacked. Sasori’s tongue flicked out between Deidara’s lips, exploring. Deidara reciprocated, softening, letting Sasori fill his mouth. He lay back. Sasori followed, supporting Deidara’s head with a gentle hand.

“—hot when you’re angry, mn,” Deidara breathed. He adjusted his hips as Sasori moved to lie on top of him.

“Shut up,” Sasori murmured, reinforcing his words by redoubling his attack on Deidara’s mouth. “I can’t stand you.”

Deidara tried to respond but Sasori’s lips were monopolizing his mouth. So many beautiful kisses; how could he think of anything else in this moment? He closed his eyes and let Sasori smother him. Nothing about this was tender—Sasori’s passion betrayed his anger and frustration.

Sasori bit down on Deidara’s lower lip, pulling on it hard. When it snapped back, Deidara grinned at him and tried to steal a kiss of his own. Sasori caught him midway, pushing his head down to the pillow.

“You drive me mad,” Sasori hissed, lips brushing against Deidara’s as he spoke.

“And you’re turning me on, mn,” Deidara finally managed to respond. He shifted his hips again, trying to release some of the pressure building beneath his boxers.

“Oh no,” was Sasori’s response, which caused Deidara to pull back.

“‘Oh… no’ …?”

Sasori rolled off to the side and covered his eyes with his arm.

“I’m sorry…” he said, voice muffled. He moved his arm so one eye peeped out.

Deidara gave him a curious look. He inched closer to Sasori, and when Sasori did not twitch away, he threw an arm around Sasori and pressed his body close. Sasori rolled so that his back was to Deidara, but he cuddled closer, allowing Deidara’s hardness to slip somewhere comfortable.

“I’m sorry…” he repeated, squeezing his eyes shut. Of all the thoughts running though his head just then, those were the only words he felt like uttering aloud.

Deidara’s chin edged over his shoulder; he felt Deidara’s lips on his neck again, déjà vu…

“If you let me hold you like this, I think I can possibly forgive you, mn,” Deidara whispered, pressing his hips into Sasori, making no effort to conceal his arousal. “But just in case, you should probably go on a walk with me later… and visit my installations.”

Sasori couldn’t help himself: he laughed a tiny, coughing laugh.

“You’re a single-minded idiot, Deidara.”

Kissing Sasori’s neck (this one slightly more of a bite) Deidara replied:

“I don’t think you get how this works: if you keep insulting me, you’ll have to keep apologizing, and to make it up you’ll just have to keep doing things for me, mn!”

Mind made up in a split second, Sasori rolled over and pressed his hand against Deidara’s stiff cock. Eyes bare centimeters from Deidara’s and mouth curved in a devilish smirk, he said:

“How about I earn some credit?”

Deidara flashed him an equally devilish grin. “And risk messing up _your_ perfect sheets, mn?”

Sasori shoved Deidara’s shoulder and rolled onto his back.

“I really can’t stand you,” he sighed, staring at the ceiling. It was no small thing for him to offer physical intimacy: what would possess Deidara to ruin the moment with a snarky remark like that?

“It’s like you exist to make my life difficult,” he concluded.

Deidara sat up and rested his elbow on a propped up knee, giving his erection some space to breathe within his boxers. His head drooped sideways, allowing his fringe to cover most of his face. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing: he was torn between how much he enjoyed getting the better of Sasori-the-Scorpion and a budding feeling of guilt at knowing he had overstepped.

“There must be _something_ you like about me, mn,” Deidara mumbled, trying to sound a little sad and hurt.

Sasori rolled his head sideways to study Deidara with a clear, serious expression, lips parted.

“You’re easy on the eyes, I’ll give you that,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching up.

He dragged himself to sitting and touched his forehead to Deidara’s.

“And you’re just about the only person who’s ever stood up to me,” he said, staring deep into Deidara’s eye, “who not only survived, but actually kept coming back for more.”

They shared a soft kiss.

“I can’t tell if it’s because you love me or if you’re just stupid,” Sasori smirked.

“You talk too much,” Deidara murmured onto Sasori’s lips. “Let’s mess up your sheets, mn.”

Without another word, Sasori slipped his hand beneath the waistband of Deidara’s boxers. His fingers slid along Deidara’s length, a good length; he wrapped his hand around Deidara’s thick girth; he felt the tip with his thumb, smooth, hot and ready to be played with.

Deidara leaned back against the wall, eye closed, lips parted.

Sasori began to slide his hand up and down, gently, feather-like at first.

“Ah—” Deidara started, but not half a second later Sasori’s mouth was covering his, open wide and wet.

The moment he disengaged, Sasori whispered in a dark tone that twisted through Deidara’s stomach in the best sort of way: “If you say even _one_ word I will stop. _Immediately_.”

Deidara’s body trembled and he sucked in a breath. In reaction to Sasori’s sharp gaze and pressured grip, all he could do was nod and close his eyes.

Sasori moved his hand up and down the length of Deidara’s cock, slowly at first, gradually building pressure and speed. His hand, his wrist, his arm, his fingers remembered what to do, even if he himself had put such a thing from his mind for so long. He closed his eyes, feeling, sensing, melting into the act.

A whimper—Deidara held his lips together, holding back words. He shifted his position, tugging at his boxers, pulling them down and setting himself free. Sasori drank in the sight of Deidara’s fully naked body without slowing his motions: scars old and new accented arms and torso; burns, and others thin and white like knife-cuts; there was an inexplicable fresh bruise on the right thigh; summer tan darkened arms and lower legs in comparison to the rest of his body; stomach was pale but tautly muscled; well-kept dark blond hair framed an amply-proportioned cock, dark pink next to Sasori’s pale hand; Sasori’s fingers seemed thin and small against it…

Sasori could smell him now. He slipped his thumb over the tip, slick with pre-cum. Deidara moaned quietly, licking his lips and pressing back against the wall as Sasori rubbed him.

“Mmn…” He was clearly struggling to hold back his words. Sasori could help in only one way: shifting so he straddled one of Deidara’s legs, he leaned forward, one hand on Deidara’s cock, the other bracing against the wall, and pressed his lips to Deidara’s.

“Mm,” Deidara sighed again, eyes closed. Sasori planted tiny kisses at first, then locked his mouth on Deidara’s mouth, slick and soft. Deidara’s tongue pushed inside, paralleling what was going on in Sasori’s hand below.

All of a sudden Deidara pulled back, shuddered and inhaled sharply. _He’s close_. Sasori pumped faster; his hand slipped easily on the tip now; Deidara jerked beneath him and instinctively Sasori pressed close, pinning Deidara’s erection between their bodies.

Sticky warmth bloomed between them; Deidara’s hips rocked gently as he rode out the orgasm; he stifled his cries. Sasori buried his nose in the crook of Deidara’s neck, smelling his hair, smelling _him_ … and feeling…

...dirty.

_No…_ he thought, trying to stem the building anguish brought on by these thoughts. _No, why?_ He felt tears threatening. _No, don’t cry now. Don’t ruin this for him. Oh…_ He needed to get away, be alone.

Deidara was stroking his back, sighing, nuzzling him— _Oh, to feel what you feel, my love_ , Sasori thought, blinking back his useless tears and biting his lip. _I can’t even look at him right now, can’t hold it together…_

“Well, now I need a shower!” Sasori said brightly, forcing as much carefree joy as he possibly could fake into his voice. He tried to laugh, but it came so close to a sob he had to stop himself. He pushed himself off the bed, spinning quickly so as to hide his face.

Snapping the bathroom door shut and locking it, he leaned forward to turn on the water seconds before tears rolled down his cheeks.

He sank to the floor, huddling there gripping the side of the bathtub. Cooling wet stain on his chest…? He began to strip off his top— _why buttons?_ —the buttons weren’t coming—thread gave way and a button skittered under the tub. His hands were shaking too badly; he couldn’t, he couldn’t—

The door handle rattled.

“Sasori?” Deidara’s voice was pitched higher than usual. “Sasori, I can hear you in there. Please unlock the door, mn.”

Sasori couldn’t move his body. His breath was coming in gasps— _calm down_. He closed his mouth, forced the air through his nose like he had been taught. He closed his eyes— _reduce stimuli_.

_One. Two._

_Three. Four._

_Five. Six._

_Seven. Eight._

_Nine._

_Ten…_

Releasing. Slowly. First his hand on the tub. Fingers. Thumb. Release.

He released himself backwards, slumping against the door.

He felt the door move, heard something slide… As if Deidara were sitting against the door too, mirroring his position.

He pulled in a deep, deep inhale. The water was still running. Let it run.

“Sasori?” Deidara’s voice was small. “Are you okay? Can you unlock the door? Please?”

Sasori lifted his hand, touched the handle, flicked the lock and moved aside so Deidara could push the door. He tried to stand and Deidara caught him under the arm—strong, always strong. He looked up, met that bright blue stare; Deidara’s eye was wide and scared.

“Hey,” Deidara called softly—did he not see Sasori, staring into his eyes? Wait… there. Sasori focused his eyes on Deidara again.

“Are you okay, mn?”

Sasori tried to nod, but it was barely a twitch of his chin. “I’m sorry…” he said in a small voice, eyes slipping to the floor.

Deidara’s gaze landed on Sasori’s exposed shoulder. He touched the collar of the pajama top Sasori had failed to remove. He met Sasori’s eyes.

“Can I help you take this off? Mn,” he asked gently.

Sasori nodded again. He drew another breath and stood a little taller. Deidara unhooked all the buttons for him and then he removed the shirt on his own. He slipped it into the laundry hamper.

“God,” Sasori muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I’m pathetic.”

“No. You’re not, mn,” Deidara responded immediately, stepping forward and taking Sasori’s hands, brushing his thumbs over Sasori’s fingers. “I shouldn’t have—”

Sasori laughed, and when he blinked, tears rolled down his cheeks. “What? Had a normal physical reaction? No, this is not your fault. It’s just…”

Deidara brushed aside Sasori’s tears with his fingertips and then cupped his cheek. Sasori closed his eyes and leaned into Deidara’s hand.

“It’s just…”

“I know, mn.”

Sasori stepped forward into Deidara’s embrace, noticing for the first time that Deidara was now clothed, wearing Sasori’s faded Dawn t-shirt and a loose pair of shorts.

“I’m supposed to talk to you more about this…” Sasori murmured into Deidara’s shoulder. “My therapist… Anyway, I… heh.”

“Shh. Later, later, mn.”

Deidara’s hands were warm and comforting on his back.

“We’ll take it one step at a time, mn?”

“Where do you find the patience for me?” Sasori wondered aloud, pressing closer.

A soft, surprised laugh tumbled from Deidara’s lips. He leaned back and searched Sasori’s eyes.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, mn.”

Sasori was struck dumb by such an unexpected confession; he would never have expected anything romantic to pass Deidara’s lips, ever. This was practically “I love you.”

Then he grinned; Deidara grinned back.

“More beautiful than your exploding fleet?” Sasori teased. He was feeling more like himself now.

“Ah! My birds!” Deidara exclaimed, twitching in Sasori’s arms. “Mn.”

“Ah?” Sasori mocked, gripping him tight. “After all that, you’d run off and check your phone? What about me?!”

“You already said you’d come with me, mn,” Deidara grinned. “For a pleasant morning stroll. So take your shower, get dressed, and let’s go!” His smile faltered. “Okay?”

A playful smile curving his mouth, Sasori raised a hand to stroke Deidara’s cheek.

“I’ll be fine, my love.”

_As long as you are here._

**Author's Note:**

> Song: Laid by James  
> (v1) This bed is on fire with passionate love...  
> (v2) My therapist says I'm not to see you no more...  
> (v4) I moved outta the house so you moved next door  
> I locked you out, you cut a hole in the wall  
> I find you sleeping next to me when I thought I was alone  
> You're driving me crazy when are you coming home?  
> 


End file.
